


Don't Let This Line Go Slack

by sapphire2309



Category: White Collar
Genre: F/M, Gen, Spoilers till at least 6x01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-24 16:26:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6159586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphire2309/pseuds/sapphire2309
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elizabeth's move to D.C. has her off balance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Let This Line Go Slack

**Author's Note:**

> For runthecon, for the prompts 'New Beginnings' and 'Last But Not Least'. Unbetaed, written in a hurry, a little shit. Title from Transcontinental, 1:30 AM by Vienna Teng.  
> AU from end S5 in which Rachel is arrested but Neal isn't kidnapped, because I don't need that chaos going on in the background. I think I finished this ~~just in time~~ just a teensy bit late only because I dropped this little Neal+Sara plotline I had in my head. And it's still only half a story. Ugh.  
>  I haven't posted a proper fic here in ages. I forgot how fidgety things get when you try to align things to the centre. Oh, commentfics, you are so simple and I adore you <3  
>  **Disclaimer:** White Collar is Jeff Eastin's brainchild. Not mine.

She has only three framed pictures of Peter.

She’s never needed them for anything but her desk at work, where they sat in a cheerful group. But in D.C., she has just one for her desk at work (the poor dear looks so lonely), one for her bedside table (she never thought there’d be a day when she wouldn’t be able to just turn and see his face), and, last but not least, one in a position of prominence on her bookshelf, so she can see it from the couch and the kitchen and the dining table, remind herself of who she left behind because of what she wanted.

They’re still in love. That’s not the problem, it’s never been. But the physical distance is something that she may have underestimated. She hadn’t even noticed before how much she relied on his presence, his warmth, his reassuring solidity.

She’s maybe just a little angry at him for not being there. And that’s bleeding into the few evening phone calls they share and she doesn’t know how not to be angry when she didn’t decide to feel angry in the first place.

-:-

  
Her finger hovers briefly over the call button before she gives in and presses it. It rings for about half a minute before there’s a click.

“And I want a copy on my desk by the end of the day. This is Sara Ellis.”

“Sara, hey. It’s Elizabeth.”

“Elizabeth,” Sara repeats with some disbelief. “I’m in London. This is an international phone call. Those are expensive.” The tone of surprise hasn’t worn off yet.

“Oh, yeah, I know you’re in London, that’s actually why I called. I just, I needed- I _need_ \- oh, you’re at work.”

“Yeah. And I think my staff is in shock. This is probably the first personal phone call I’ve received since I got here. How pathetic is that?”

They both laugh unconvincingly for a moment.

Elizabeth sighs and steels herself. “Okay, this is clearly a bad time, so-”

“Maybe we could Skype later today? I’ll email you my ID.”

“Sure! I mean, yes, that would be lovely.”

Sara’s smile is audible in her voice. “All right. I’ll see you.”

“I’ll see you.”

-:-

  
“Hey, Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth wants to laugh a little. It’s late in the night for Sara, but she’s still perfectly elegant in a off shoulder knit sweater with perfect hair and a cup of coffee, looking for all the world like one of those stock images, while she’s in one of Peter’s old, worn t-shirts (she insisted on taking a few with her). “Hey, Sara.”

Sara must have heard something of a laugh in her voice, because she’s immediately worried. “Is there something in my teeth?”

“No, it’s nothing. How was your day?”

“Long, and filled with _idiots_. But that’s not why you called.”

“No, it’s not. I was just… wondering. How did you and Neal deal with the distance? I mean, when you moved to London.”

“Oh, we didn’t even try. We just called it quits. I mean, we’re in touch. I send him postcards, he sends me the occasional cheerful email, but… we moved on. I think he’s dating someone else now.”

 _She doesn’t even know what happened,_ Elizabeth thinks. _Could Peter and I get that disconnected from one another?_

“Elizabeth, are you and Peter okay?” Sara asks, with more than a little concern.

“Yeah, we’re good. It’s just. I moved to D.C. and he didn’t.”

“Because of Neal,” Sara surmises.

“Got it in one,” El says, a little bitterly.

“You’re trying, aren’t you? To stay together?” Sara asks gently.

“Of course!”

“Then that’s more than we did. And, honestly, it’s Peter. You’ll be fine,” Sara says with such certainty that El can’t help but feel reassured.

“Thank you,” El says sincerely.

“I’m happy to be of help. Bye, Elizabeth.”

“Bye,” she says automatically, and before she can take it back, Sara’s cut the call, and El’s left with a pit in her stomach and the nasty feeling that she might have just hurt someone.

-:-

  
She didn’t call Sara back immediately, which was foolish, because who knows when she’ll be online again? She spends the next evening waiting for Sara’s yellow dot to turn green, and almost falls out of her chair in surprise when it does.

She can’t hit the call button fast enough.

“Elizabeth,” Sara says pleasantly. “Hey. Something wrong?”

“Hi. I just wanted to apologise. I called you yesterday out of really selfish motives, and I probably shouldn’t have.”

Sara just looks confused. “Why would I be offended? You thought I might be able to help more than I could. But I couldn’t. That’s all.”

Elizabeth wonders how many friends Sara’s had. Real, true friends, who cared about her as a person and not an advice dispenser.

“Oh,” El says. “Well. How was your day?”

“The same as yesterday.” Sara still hasn’t lost that slightly uncertain look.

“Come on. It has to have been at least a little different.”

“None of the idiots today forgot the difference between repossession and stealing, so that’s an improvement.”

“Stealing?”

“Window-shopping during a recovery. I had to go replace the extras myself.”

“Had to?”

“Well, it may or may not have been a thinly veiled excuse to go out into the field…”

Elizabeth laughs, which brings a radiant smile to Sara’s face before she continues talking.

-:-

  
She Skypes Sara more often than she calls Peter. And the funny thing is, she doesn't even notice it for a long time. But one evening, they're laughing about a waiter who almost spilled wine on some very expensive modern art when the doorbell rings. She carries her laptop over to the door because she doesn’t want to lose sight of Sara, and opens it to find Peter.

"Peter," El says, numb with shock.

"Hey Peter!" Sara says from half a world away. "This is a nice surprise."

Peter is blissfully ignorant of the turmoil in El’s heart as he smiles at her with those warm brown eyes, walks in with an armful of takeout, and puts it down on the dining room table before kissing her, laptop and all.

“Oh-kay, it’s getting hot over there. I’m going to leave you guys to it. Enjoy your evening! Bye!” Sara says from somewhere to her left, and El wants to yell _don’t leave_ and also buy a time machine and rewind the last five minutes.

“I’ve missed you,” Peter murmurs.

“I’ve missed you too,” she parrots, and she’s convincing enough that Peter doesn’t think twice about it.

“I brought food, because I wasn’t sure whether or not you’d have cooked enough for two, and I didn’t want to have to run out later….”

Something settles in her heart. He world is _right_ , now. He’s here and nothing’s wrong and she still loves him. It surprises her how much she was worried about that.

He turns to her and she kisses him, almost knocks him off balance, and when they finally come up for air, she grabs his tie and murmurs something about building up an appetite and drags Peter to a bed that’s about to be warmer and cozier than she’s ever found it.

-:-

  
The weekend is perfect.

They spend every moment together, including those two time she got called in for a work emergency, they read and listen to music and eat dinner and just _exist_ in the same space and she wonders how she ever took that for granted.

And then he leaves early on Monday morning and it’s like he took her anchor with him. She feels weightless and bereft. She throws up her breakfast and wanders through the work day on shaky legs and starts crying as soon as her evening call to Sara goes through.

“What happened?” Sara says instead of hello.

“I don’t- Peter left this morning and I’m just feeling really- this makes no sense. I don’t just burst into tears like that. What is wrong with me?”

“Hey. Elizabeth. It’s okay. This has got to be a big change for you, and you’re still getting used to it. It’s only been a week and a half. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Elizabeth’s tears begin to slow

“You know, when I first got here, I'd find myself at a bar every Friday night and in bed with a stranger every Saturday morning. And this was after just two months with Neal. You haven't lived alone in, what, ten or fifteen years? It's going to be hard at first. But you’ll get through it.”

“Uh huh. When was your last one night stand?” El asks as she wipes her cheeks.

“Two nights ago. Hey, it’s a system that works. Why shake it?”

Elizabeth laughs.

-:-

  
Elizabeth jumps when her laptop loudly announces a Skype call at six in the morning on Thursday. Great. That’s what she gets for not clicking shut down before falling asleep with her arm for a pillow on the dining table.

“What’s it,” she mumbles sleepily.

“Elizabeth! Ellie. Can I call you Ellie?”

Elizabeth blinks. Sara’s on a bed with white sheets that definitely isn’t hers, in a white nightgown that has a rather ugly pattern, and there’s an annoying beeping in the background. “Please tell me you didn’t call me in the middle of a one night stand.”

Sara looks at her like she’s stupid. “It’s the weekday, and it’s the morning. And this is the hospital. And I’m bored.”

“Hospital?” El’s suddenly more alert. She looks more closely at Sara, and sees the jaunty smile on her lips, the complete peace on her face… “Are you high?”

“On the good stuff.” Sara grins. “I have appendicitis. And it hurts. I mean, I kept working, but then I threw up all over a file and then I figured I should probably take a sick day.”

Elizabeth’s stomach begins to roil at the mere mention of throwing up. “Not again,” she murmurs as she swallows and tries to quell it.

“You okay, Ellie?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a bit of nausea.”

“You’re throwing up too? I threw up. Because of the appendicitis. They thought I was pregnant. Because of all the hot steamy sex. But it’s appendicitis. Do you have appendicitis too, Ellie?”

“I don’t think so,” she laughs.

She talks to Sara till she has to get ready for work, and it isn’t till she’s almost out the door that the word hits her. _Pregnant_

She buys four different pregnancy tests and a water bottle and locks herself into a bathroom as soon as she reaches and four sets of two pink lines tell her everything she needs to know.

_Pregnant._

She floats through the day and crashes onto her couch as soon as she’s home and finds Sara in the hospital, probably after surgery, looking tired and worn, and she blurts “I’m pregnant,” instead of “Hi.”

“Congratulations!” Sara says. then she takes in Elizabeth’s expression. “Are we not happy about that?”

“I don’t _know_. Peter and I didn’t want kids, we knew that, and I’ve been on birth control since we started dating, but this is a- I don’t-”

“Have you told him?”

“I- no, I just got home and called you.”

“Elizabeth, while I am honoured that I’m the first person you told, you need to talk to Peter. Not me.”

“I don’t know if I can,” El whispers. “He just feels so far away right now.”

“Just reach out. I know you can.”

“Okay. Okay.”

“Call him,” Sara says, and hangs up.

-:-

  
Elizabeth turns her phone over and over in her hands. She doesn’t remember the last time she called Peter. He’s been doing all the work while she’s been sitting around, feeling alone.

As she’s steeling herself, her phone rings in her hand. It’s Peter.

She doesn’t deserve him, she thinks as she accepts the call and says, “Hi, hon.”

“Hi, hon,” he says back, and she’s not going to tell him. Not like this, over the phone. She’s going to buy a train ticket and go home and talk to him face-to-face, and they’re going to decide what to do together, in the same physical space, because she doesn’t know how to have light conversations with him from a distance yet, forget heavy, life changing ones like this.

It’ll work out, because she won't let it fall apart.


End file.
